Sin
by Leven
Summary: If they did believe in such a thing as the 7 deadly sins, they’d surely be going to hell. Reela fic.
1. Envy

**Sin: Envy**

She was going to leave him.

Hell, she _was_ leaving him. She was packing her things and actively avoiding his eyes. All he could do was watch as she was removing every trace of her ever being there and moving on to be with a man. A man that wasn't him.

He was going to die, he thought. He was going to end up sitting in this God forsaken apartment and drinking himself to death. It wasn't like he had anything to come home to anymore.

Damn.

He helped her move her stuff to the van. He could have won an Oscar for his performance. He should have won prizes for not waltzing up to her new 'husband' and punching him in the face. He didn't know himself as a jealous man. He'd lived his life free of being committed to some unrequited love that was one day going to eat him up from the inside.

He didn't like the new him at all.

So there they stood, in her empty room, staring diligently at the floor. It was weird, the two of them in silence. She leaned on the frame of what was once her bed. She looked kind of sad; at least she did in his mind. Searching his mind desperately for something to say he remembered.

"I got you something. A going away present." He motioned her to follow as he made his way to the living room. He opened several drawers before he finally found what he was looking for.

He handed her a poorly wrapped present. She cocked an eyebrow and his heart sank. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. He was going to kill himself. He was going to attack that damn Gallant and then he was going to throw himself in front of a bus.

She opened the package excitedly, though she tried to pretend she didn't care, and he let out the breath he'd been holding. She fished out a tape and gave him a confused look.

"Songs, from the band." He plastered his trademark smirk on his face. "In case it gets too quiet."

"I doubt it will." She muttered and took out the last item in the package. "A guitar pick? On a string? That's definitely something I haven't gotten before."

"It's a necklace." He said. "One of my picks, so you won't forget all about me."

"I'm going to see you nearly every day." She reminded him.

"Still." He grinned. She turned around and held out the necklace.

"Put it on."

He revelled in the feel of her skin against his fingertips as he put the necklace around her neck as slowly as he possibly could. As he tied the cord tightly the door opened and Gallant stepped in.

Damn.

The gear that held his jealous thoughts at safe distance snapped and all he could do was stare at the man before him with a mean, cocky smirk as he stoked her neck one more time and hugged her close. She let go and all traces of arrogance left his mind as they were replaced by a wave of complete loss. She kissed him on the cheek and sighed.

"I'll see you at work, Ray."

All he could do was mutter a weak "Yeah" as he watched her walk to her husband and close the door. He sped to the refrigerator, grabbed a beer and slammed it shut.

Damn.

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	2. Pride

**Pride**

She'd settled, she realized.

She had abandoned all hope of a relationship with Ray, a long, long time ago. And somewhere along the road she found she'd settled for something less. Something safe and secure. Something that wouldn't one day come back and slap her in the face. Something that made her feel wanted.

She really did think she loved him, at first. But after the honeymoon that thought had dissolved into what she knew was the truth. She wasn't in love; she was hiding, plain and simple. She didn't like it one bit.

Who had she become? How had she gone from strong, stable Neela to the Neela that needed a husband to feel like she'd accomplished something? What was wrong with her? She cursed herself and her damn confused mind. She cursed the sweet, loving, brave man in her bed – the one who wanted her. And she cursed the funny, arrogant, reckless man in her dreams – the one who didn't seem to see her at all.

Michael was sleeping soundly beside her, but she couldn't fall asleep. In fact, she'd been sleeping badly the whole week. Partly because the new mattress was incredibly uncomfortable, partly because Ray haunted her dreams. The apartment she shared with Michael felt far too foreign to her, far too clean and quiet. Ray said it would get quiet. God, she hated it when Ray was right. She hated it when she was wrong. She seemed to be wrong a lot lately, which threw her off, because she wasn't used to being wrong. At least not when it came to Ray.

Careful not to wake her husband she stepped out of bed. Obviously, sleep was not going to come, so she figured she might as well do something useful. She cleaned.

Honestly there wasn't much to clean. Michael, it seemed, liked sterile places even more than she did. However, that didn't stop her from trying. She scrubbed the counter like a maniac. After ten minutes of excessive scrubbing she stood up straight and sighed. Bloody Ray and his noise. After a while she'd gotten so used to it that, now that it was gone, it seemed empty everywhere.

The tape he had given her had not left her coat pocket since she'd gotten it. Now she had it firmly in her hand, and after several minutes of indecisive fidgeting she pressed the play button of her tape player and smiled. Ray's voice filled the room, not too loud, she couldn't wake Michael, and she suddenly felt ashamed of herself. She shouldn't be feeling so relieved to hear his voice and his band. She wasn't supposed to be this weak. A voice behind her called her name and she jumped.

" Neela?" He said again.

"Yes?" She asked, still smiling.

"What are you doing?"

"Listening to music, and cleaning." She said matter-of-factly.

"At three in the morning? Who is this?" He sounded odd.

"I couldn't sleep. And this is Ray's band; he gave me a tape before I left."

"What he have you that thing around your neck?"

"Yeah. Why?" She was beginning to feel attacked and touched the guitar pick protectively.

"I don't like it." He muttered.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, I do."

"No, I mean I don't like this thing you're doing. This distant thing." He said. "You're not acting like yourself. I don't like it. So just…stop behaving so strangely. Just stop." He sounded annoyed, like she'd been making fun of him.

She just stared at him blankly. What was wrong? She'd been trying so hard to act as if nothing was different.

"What is you bloody problem?" She asked, beginning to raise her voice.

"My problem is that you're playing some guy's tape, in the middle of the night! My problem is that you've hardly spoken a word to me since the move! My problem is that you keep playing with that damn guitar pick!" Michael had gone from annoyed to livid. "My problem is that you're married to me, but you can't seem to get your head out of that crappy apartment!"

"I liked living in that apartment, okay?" She told him. "Ray is my friend, I lived with him for a long time, and he means a lot to me! I'm going to miss it! I'm not used to this 'married' thing. It's not exactly like I've done it before!"

Michael's eyes narrowed. "Did you sleep with him?"

"Excuse me?" She stuttered. "What did you just ask me?"

"You heard me, Neela. Did you sleep with that wannabe rock star?"

"No!" She screamed, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. "Who do you think I am? I don't just go around sleeping with people! And don't call him that."

"Wannabe rock star?" He snorted and shook his head as Neela glared at him. "See? You slept with him. I don't want you to see him anymore."

"Do you think I'd lie to you? And do you really think I'm not going to see him again? I work with him! He's my friend! Never see him again, really?" She asked in disbelief. "Well, fuck you! You don't know me at all. Please, leave."

"What?"

"Leave!" She yelled at him. "Leave and don't come back until you've gotten that gigantic ego of yours shrunk. I don't want to see you tomorrow. Find some other woman to order around!"

"Fine!" He yelled back. He grabbed his coat and keys and gave her one more look before he went out the door.

The door slammed and she blinked away her tears. She turned up the volume of the tape she'd come to find salvation in and resumed her cleaning. She'd be damned if she'd ever let her life be ruled by a man. She was better that that, stronger than that. Whether he liked it or not.

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	3. Sloth

**Sloth **

He was sick.

Okay, so he wasn't actually _sick_, but they didn't know that. He had held out for nearly a week – he was quite proud – and he wasn't planning on going back to work for at least a few days.

In his defence, or so he liked to think, he'd been a good boy the first two days and had gone to work like he was supposed to. The problem was that he saw Neela _everywhere_ and she was always talking to him and playing with that damn guitar pick he now wished he hadn't given her. Like she missed him or something. It made him feel sad and jealous and mad and like a complete idiot.

It was weird.

So, instead of confronting anything, he called in sick. He wasn't going to pretend he was good at handling matters like these, and he wasn't going to pretend like he didn't prefer the easy way out either. Instead he spent his time on the couch pretending like nothing had ever happened. And he liked it just fine, thank you very much. Sure, if Neela had been there she might have had the sense to do some grocery shopping, because being a lazy bastard isn't half as much fun when you're starving to death. Not that he cared.

He wasn't really hiding, you know. He was protecting himself, Neela and, in some domino effect type way that he kind of hated, Michael too. He figured that if he could distance himself for just long enough to get any crazy, selfish, potentially heart breaking notions out of his head, then maybe it would be like nothing had changed. He deserved a medal for all this effort of his. A freaking Nobel prize. He deserved _something_ for not getting drunk enough to trash the apartment, call her in a hazy state and confess everything. Yes, his laziness was for the greater fucking good. And nobody was going to tell him otherwise.

He tried to concentrate on the television and shut any reflective thoughts out of his head. Flipping through the channels aimlessly he started dozing off, until suddenly the front door opened.

He craned his neck to see who had come in and nearly fell off the couch when he saw who it was. Neela. She was holding a Tupperware box and looked kind of…he couldn't quite tell. The look on her face was a cross between happy and anxious. He didn't know what to make of it.

"I come bearing soup." She said brightly.

Well, shit. There goes all that careful planning and nearly 15 minutes of convincing Kerry that he was sick. All his good intentions thrown away and replaced with chicken soup. Great. just fucking fabulous.

Putting the soup on the counter she took in her surroundings.

"Well," She said, "This place looks like crap."

"Gee, Neela, thanks." He replied and sat up straight. "What are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to see if you were alright." She kneeled by the couch and put her hand on his forehead. "You're not hot. That's good."

"Not hot?" He grinned. "And here I thought you thought I had a cute butt."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not looking at your butt, am I?"

"You want to?" He wiggles his eyebrows.

"Hey, I'm a married woman now." She said in a mock reprimanding tone.

Yes, he really needed a reminder of that. He looked away. "Yeah."

Frowning, she changed the subject. "What're you watching?"

"Just…stuff." He motioned at the screen, which had a game show on. "You can change it if you want."

He reached over to hand it to her, but she reached over herself. Her hand reached it first and he ended up grabbing her hand instead of the actual remote.

Shit. This was exactly why the avoiding process wasn't complete yet. They weren't supposed to do this…this tensing up thing they were doing. They weren't supposed to look at each other nervously and wonder how the hell they were going to laugh this one off without looking ridiculous. They weren't supposed to jump apart and start apologizing in stuttering voices. _This_ was why he was avoiding her. Why did she have to make it so damn difficult for him?

"Maybe I should…" She started.

"Yeah, I should try to sleep anyway." He agreed. "Thanks for the…uh…soup."

"You're welcome."

What was he supposed to do now? Hug her? Shake her hand? Kiss her? Why did everything always have to be so difficult? She was looking at him all expectantly, like he knew what to do.

"I would hug you, but…"

"Right." She nodded. "Sick. Bye." She head for the door.

He stared at the floor. "Bye."

The door slammed. He sighed. Yeah, he was definitely staying sick for a little while longer.

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	4. Gluttony

_Disclaimer:_ Not mine

**Gluttony**

She was beginning to worry she'd never sleep again.

Even if she didn't have to be at County all the time, sleep seemed a thing of the past. It was all the tension. It filled the house 24 hours a day and it was unbearable. Even now, when he wasn't here (her fault), it hung thick in the air.

Swallowing a piece of white chocolate (with nuts, in her opinion the only tolerable white chocolate), she tried to figure out a way to fix it.

Moping, she knew, wasn't to her help her in her current situation. Cleaning wasn't going to get rid of the tension between her and her husband. Throwing herself into work wasn't going to make her miss her old apartment – and its inhabitant – any less. Stuffing her face _definitely_ wasn't going to make her confusion disappear. So, she figured, it would be best to call in some re-enforcements before she ate twice her weight in chocolate.

Abby had dealt with a plethora of problems. Abby was a trouble magnet. Abby was disaster walking. Abby would know what to do.

As it turned out, it wasn't the best idea.

It started out well enough, as a typical girl night. They'd put on a cheesy movie, giggled at all the appropriate moments and ate ice cream. It wasn't until Abby noticed that Neela's ice cream (Karamel Sutra, her favourite) was disappearing at an alarming rate, that she asked _why_ exactly she was called over in the middle of the night.

"I just…needed to talk to a girl." Neela answered.

"Oh yes, all this talking is blowing my mind." Abby joked.

Neela didn't make an effort to be amused. "It's just all wrong, Abby." She muttered.

"What happened?" Abby took her hand. "Where's Michael?"

"I think I kicked him out." Neela replied.

"You _think_ you kicked him out?"

Truth be told, she _really _didn't know exactly what she had done. She remembered coming home from work. She remembered tension and an uncomfortable silence. She remembered fighting, which wasn't at all unusual. She remembered telling him to 'get over himself or fuck the hell off and leave her alone'. The last clear things that came to mind were the slamming of the door and, by the time her tears had dried, the kitchen re-organized and her chocolate stash halved, the realization that he wasn't coming back.

It had all just completely derailed.

"You told him to _fuck off_?" Abby asked in disbelief.

"Yeah…something like that."

She was a bad person. A bad, _bad_ person. She wasn't worth a used glove from a trashcan. She deserved to be stoned.

"How about some alcohol?" Neela suggested.

"Alcoholic, Neela. Remember?"

"I was talking about _me. I_ could _really _use some alcohol." Yeah, alcohol would fix this.

She was about to get up when she realized they had no alcohol in the house anyway. Perhaps she'd lived in a house where there was _always_ alcohol for too long. Mentally kicking herself in the head (Always have alcohol!), he settled on the rest of her ice cream instead. She shouldn't be drinking around Abby anyway (_Bad person_).

"I couldn't drink it anyway." Abby grinned. "I'm…I'm…pregnant!"

Neela nearly choked on her spoon. "Pregnant?"

"That's what I said."

"As in…a baby?"

"No, Neela, as in an eggplant." Abby rolled her eyes. "Yes, a _baby_."

"Wow." Neela was having a little trouble digesting the information. "So, no alcohol then. Does, uh, Luka know?"

Abby chuckled. "If I hadn't promised to hit him over the head with something he'd probably have knitted the poor thing a hundred ugly little hats already."

Oh, God. When did _Abby_ get _her_ life? How come _Abby_ suddenly got the happy family? Why did she have to be the one with the marriage that fell apart before it even began? When had she started having more problems than Abby? Oh, _God_.

Neela sobbed. "I hate you." Her sobs became full blown wailing. She desperately tried to wipe away the stream of tears.

"I know." Abby said, pulling her into a hug. "I know."

"Boys suck." Neela muttered. "I hope it's not a boy." She sniffled. Boy's didn't suck, _she_ sucked. (Why, oh why didn't she have alcohol?) "Want to sleep over?"

Abby chuckled and pulled her closer. "Yeah. Sure."

Neela sniffled again and mentally reminded herself that she was out of chocolate…and alcohol…and soap. She removed herself from Abby and ate the last of her ice cream. Now she was out of ice cream too. This was going to a long night. Correction: this was going to be a _very_ long night.**

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	5. Wrath

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Ray, Neela or ER in general. They belong to NBC and all the other people who have something thing to do with this show.

**Wrath**

It wasn't until after he knocked that he realized this was a stupid idea.

It seemed simple enough, an easy 5 step plan: 1: Knock on the door. 2: _Don't_ tell her how you feel. 3: Have dinner with Neela and her husband. 4: Continue to not tell Neela how you feel. 5: Leave.

Simple. Quick. Efficient. Completely idiotic.

He knew fully well that it was never, ever going to work. He could pretend all he wanted that he was sure of himself and that he knew what he was doing. Truth be told, he was very close to the so-called breaking point – here meaning that he was very close to really breaking something. Be it his sanity or someone's nose; he didn't care. All he cared about was whether she would be there when it happened, and what she would think of it.

It happened like he had told himself it wouldn't. He wasn't going to kiss her on the cheek. But he did it anyway and he felt that flutter in his stomach, wondering if she felt it too. He wasn't going to shake (dear, sweet, perfect) Michael's hand. But he did, because he was a self-destructive prick and needed to feel his hands itch to punch his (dear, sweet, perfect) face. He wasn't going to sit across from her during dinner. But he did, and he couldn't stop staring at her the whole damn time. He wasn't going to drink alcohol. But he did, the moment bottle left his wineglass he scooped it up and drank. He wasn't going to say or ask anything inappropriate. But he did and that was when it all shot straight to hell.

All it took was: "So, Michael, are you going back to Iraq?" Which he had honestly meant to be a question of pure interest. But things rarely turned out the way he meant them.

Neela's face changed to a grim expression he had never seen before. Michael's grip on his fork tightened. He had obviously said something wrong. He had to continue being a bastard, of course, because he'd already had far too much wine and his mind wanted to see how this turned out.

So instead of letting it go, he said: "Oh, am I intruding?" Neela looked at Michael expectantly. He looked like he wanted to die. Ray's mind was having a field day. Trouble in paradise. _Hallelujah_ seemed to fit.

"No." Neela said.

"Yes." Michael answered at the same time.

Unhealthy behaviour, this was. Very unhealthy, but he revelled in the tension and the anger that was beginning to form in the air just the same.

"He's thinking about going back." Neela said, staring at her husband angrily.

"Neela, please…" Michael said.

"Wait. You're leaving?" Oh, he was evil. He was crazy. He was going to burn in hell, but first he was going to enjoy this as much as he very well could.

"No, I'm just thinking about-" Michael began.

"Not asking my opinion." Neela cut him off. She shook her head. "I'm only his _wife_, you know? No need to ask if _I_ want my husband in the same country as me."

"Neela, I haven't even decided anything yet!"

"You wouldn't leave me alone, Ray? Would you?" She asked him expectantly.

Okay, wrong turn to the conversation. He was not supposed to be dragged into this. He was supposed to be a semi-innocent bystander. Maybe throw a little wood in the fire every once in a while. Not be asked a question he couldn't even lie about, now that his mind was so foggy and the woman he loved and her husband were staring at him with great expectations.

"Of course not." He answered, because that was the only answer that his mouth wanted to give. "I'd be crazy to."

Which, again, was the wrong thing to say (once he started it was hell for him to stop). Even in his semi-drunken mind the alarm went off. _Danger! Danger! Danger!_ Damn right there was danger. One angry face turned into two angry faces. The tension had doubled and the anger that had been in the air once had long since become infuriation. By now they had both risen from their chairs.

"I seem to remember _you_ telling _me_ to leave." Michael grumbled. _Oh_, said his mind, _new information!_

"I was angry, Michael." Neela pointed out. "And it's not like you stayed away, so there's another disregard for my opinion. It's like you don't even try."

"I try, Neela. You just don't seem to care. All you care about is _him_." He gestured at Ray, who was still sitting in his chair. Neela sighed.

"I'm sorry, what?" Ray stuttered. This conversation was involving him too much. Not that his presence stopped them from continuing. It was like they hardly noticed he was there.

"When are you going let that go? He's my friend!"

Michael scoffed. Oh, what a change from dear, sweet, so-damned-perfect Michael to angry, bastard, far-from-perfect Michael. He wasn't quite sure which he preferred; the competition or the threat. Neither one sounded good in his ears.

Michael's hand came down hard on the table, shaking Ray out of his reverie. He could have sworn he saw tear form in the corner of Neela's eye when that hand connected with the table. That single maybe-tear shocked him out of his clouded state into one that just simply pissed off. What the hell did this guy think he was doing? No-one, and with no-one he meant _absolutely no-one_, yelled at his Neela like that, and they damn sure couldn't make her cry.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Came out of his mouth before he could stop it. He noticed that he had also stood up. Not that he cared, really, he'd gone long past the point of caring about whether he was going to hurt or embarrass himself; he was obviously going to do that anyway. "What the hell did she ever do to you?"

"Ray, just…leave it. It has nothing to do with you." Neela said, staring straight at her husband.

"Like hell it doesn't." Michael snarled. He looked from Neela to Ray bitterly and said: "I never thought I'd get a wife that needed both a husband _and_ a boyfriend. But hey, I guess some women are just naturally slu–"

Before he could finish his sentence Ray's fist connected with the side of his face. He'd flung himself over the table in rage, and with that knocked both of them on the floor. _Nobody insulted Neela._

"One more word and I'll make you wish you were never born." He growled. He nearly scared himself. His began to raise his fist again, for threatening purposes.

Neela screeching: "Ray!" stopped him. Shit. He'd nearly forgotten she was there. He'd nearly forgotten where he was. He'd even almost forgotten what it was like to punch people. _Shit._ That_ hurt._

He took a deep breath and slowly stood up. "I'll be home if you need me." He said, looking at her with pleading eyes. _Please, need me._ She simply nodded, but made no attempt to move to either him or her husband. As quickly as he could he made his way out of the apartment. Out of the building. Out of this whole gigantic mess.

This had gone terribly wrong. He hoped with all his heart that he could make it right, but he doubted it.

Good job, Ray. Good _job_.

You jealous moron.


	6. Greed

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Ray, Neela or ER in general. They belong to NBC and all the other people who have something thing to do with this show.

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**Greed **

All was not well.

Michael had run of somewhere, without saying a word, nearly 2 minutes after Ray had left – no, fled. She had been left behind, standing at her spot at the dining table. Mouth wide open. Mind terribly confused.

Had any of that just really happened? Was this not some terrible nightmare? _Please God, let it be a nightmare._ There was no way her lovely evening had been ruined like that. She was asleep, in her bed, and she would wake up soon. She had to. Because this was in no way funny or amusing or…or _possible, for God's sake!_

She'd always deemed herself a fair person, one with a nice, balanced life. A bit hectic at times, sure, but that was a given for an ER doctor. She'd never been the type of girl to lead someone on, nor the type put herself first. The fact that she became a doctor obviously said something about that, right? Then how did she get in this terrible, terrible mess?

It was supposed to have been a fun night, one for reconciliation. Maybe even one that would bring the two men in her life together, because she knew they didn't like each other much. She'd thought that maybe, just maybe, if they got to know each other they wouldn't hate each other so much. It hadn't worked, obviously. She could blame them, Ray and Michael, since they'd obviously played their parts. But all in all, it was her fault and her responsibility.

She'd been so desperate to properly have Ray back in her life. He'd affected her in more ways than she could possibly tell him. She knew he cared about her, he wasn't heartless and they'd been roommates for such a long time. And she was pretty sure he knew _she_ cared about _him_.

She loved him – though she was not quite sure in what way – and she'd missed him over the past few months, in which he'd obviously been avoiding her. The constant avoidance had only confused her. It had made her wonder if she'd made the right choice. At any rate, he was her friend and she needed him to be there for her. She needed him to care.

But with Michael it was different. She loved him, she really did. She just didn't love him enough. She didn't love him as a person…she loved him as a thought. Darling Michael. Perfect, brave, sweet Michael. He was her husband, her very own illusion of happiness. How very well adjusted she was.

Was she going to let all of this go because of the simple technicality that he was not her _one_? Surely her mother had raised her better than that. _Safety first, Neela. Happiness will come somewhere along the way._ She let those life lessons slip when she opted for County, and further so when she agreed to be Ray's roommate. _Other people first, Neela. Don't let what you want get in the way._ But still she'd lusted after her Ray, her roomie, while her husband sat next to her at the dinner table. She'd let them get hurt, because she wanted it all. _Think before you act, Neela. Jumping in will only give you trouble._ And, oh, how it did. How it terribly did, in a flash, the tiniest second. Because she was selfish, and these fine men had been caught in _her_ web of doubts and indecisiveness.

She desperately wished she was a less selfish person. That of all the rules and values and life lessons she had remembered the ones that put _her_ last. But too late was simply too late, and there was nothing she could do about it now. She wanted both of them for herself. She wanted Michael to stay in America _for her_. She wanted Ray want her, like some kind of fantasy that had an actual chance of coming true. She felt selfish and needy. She felt so unlike herself. It was all just too much drama.

Greedy, man-hungry Neela, at you service.

Her legs finally gave out as she realized she had been standing at the table for a while. She dropped herself onto her chair and whipped away the tears she knew were there.

_Such drama._

She tried to be optimistic. Tomorrow everything would be okay. Tomorrow the storm would have settled. She'd have to call Ray to apologize for the catastrophically night. She and Michael would talk – or, more likely, fight – about it, but they'd get through it. She _hoped_.

All she really had to do now was decide between her heart and her head. Between what was right for _her_ and what was right for _them_.

She just didn't know how.


	7. Lust

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Ray, Neela or ER in general. They belong to NBC and all the other people who have something thing to do with this show.

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**Sin: Lust **

The ring of the doorbell woke him up. The red lights of his alarm clock shone a bright 5:30. He groaned and turned around, deciding to let whoever was at the door wait there until they got the hint.

They didn't.

After ten minutes of incessant ringing he finally gave in. He made his way to the front door (cursing the whole way) and yanked the door open with an irritated "What do you…oh."

He found his entire annoyed resolve fade when he saw who was in front of him. Neela's big brown eyes gazed up at him, sad but determined.

"You and I," she said, voice trembling, "have to talk."

"Okay," he said, stepping aside to let her in. She turned around to face him as he closed the door behind her. She kept herself, and with that him, close to the door. Like she wanted to have a nearby exit for when she forgot her speech and ran away. He looked at her intensely, anticipating her words. He wasn't expecting much good.

"He wants a divorce." She said quickly. She really, _really_ wanted to get this out as fast as she could. "He wants a divorce and I think he has a point."

His eyes went wide, he had not been expecting _that_. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it again and finally uttered: "You're sure?"

"Pretty damn sure, yeah." She's got tears in her eyes and a slight smile on her face. "He's got the papers and everything. Said he'd been thinking about it for a while."

"You've only been married for a little while." Ray said. He wasn't entirely sure _why_ he said it. Not sure why he was defending this fucked up marriage. "Bastard not even giving you a chance to–"

She cuts him off: "Stop it! Do not try to make me feel better. Do not blame this all on him!" She took a deep breath. "This is…mostly my fault. I married him and I lost you and I got confused. I didn't know how to act and he didn't know how to act and _you_ didn't know how to act. It is not just his fault."

"Doesn't mean I can't blame him." He is nothing if not stubborn.

"_Ray._" She sounds like herself again, bossy and annoyed by him. He smiles. She rolls her eyes and continues, determined, focused: "The roles got mixed up and we all got dizzy. This is the only way to fix it. We put the roles back. And I've been thinking about it, you know. And I can't for the life of me think of what we really were. Were we co-workers? Were we roommates? What _were_ we, Ray?"

They'd been friends. Good friends. _Best_ friends. And that was nice and all, but it hadn't been enough then. Not for him, anyway. Not for her either, honestly. It definitely didn't feel like enough now.

She looked at him hopefully, expectant. She was giving him an out, he knew. She was giving him the chance to say the right thing. Take a chance or break a heart. One or the other. _Just do it, Ray, just put me out of my misery_, her eyes pleaded. Her heart was pounding in her chest.

He smiled. "We were…perfect. Almost."

"Almost?"

"Almost." He nodded, stared at her and decided to take his chance. He brought his hands to her face and pulled her to him.

"I'm still married." She muttered.

He didn't stop smiling. "I really don't care right now."

With that he crushed his lips to hers. The kiss grew more passionate by the second – minute, hour, eternity – his hands were in her hair, she started tugging his shirt up.

Soon his shirt was gone, then hers. Her bra was discarded so fast she didn't even notice it gone. Until they hit the door. The feeling of the cool surface of the door shook Neela out of her haze. She broke their heated kiss and looked up at him. He looked back, confused as to why she suddenly stopped. He noticed the fear, the hesitancy, in her eyes.

"You. Are. Perfect." He said earnestly. She kissed him softly.

Their hands simultaneously reached for his belt buckle. He stared at her intensely, questioningly. This was all too good to be true. _God._

"Okay." She said, partly to sooth his nerves, partly to sooth her own.

He smiled, once again, not thinking he'd ever stop. "Okay."

And before they knew it the belt had gone. And her skirt. His jeans. Her panties. His boxers. When he finally, goddamn _finally_, felt her naked body against his he hesitated once more, unsure if this wasn't really all some crazy dream.

She kissed him again, pulled him closer, pushing herself closer to the door, and murmured: "I need you."

That was really all he needed to hear.

When she left, much later that day, there was a _crack_ in the door and a smile glued to their faces.

**-FIN-**


End file.
